


All the Days She Stayed Dead

by Kimber135



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Meddling TARDIS, Self-Harm, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Tenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimber135/pseuds/Kimber135
Summary: "It’s funny. The day you lose someone isn’t the worst - at least you’ve got something to do. It’s all the days they stay dead.“ -12Just a little fic I wrote about 10, after he lost Rose at Canary Wharf and Bad Wolf Bay. Shit gets pretty dark. I’ve never written an OC, so bear with me.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Original Female Character(s), Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Kudos: 11





	1. It Never Is

Wind whipped her skin like cream and she swayed with it, precariously sat up on an old wall in Florence. She couldn’t quite remember the steps she took to get there, but she felt every thought that propelled her and now, here she was, a half-finished sketch of the cityscape in her lap as an excuse. No one would try to stop her, she was an artist at work. People who walked by did look twice, but only because that’s how many it took for them to notice she wasn’t sitting on a ledge over a hundred feet from the ground for the wrong reasons. 

Or maybe it was an excuse for her to stall. She wouldn’t find out until later that evening that it was none of those things-it was only meant to keep her there just long enough. Long enough for _him_ to show up. 

Her pencil ghosted over the paper for a second, and began drawing a body sprawled on the ground directly below her dangling feet. 

“It’s a bit morbid,” came a voice over her left shoulder. 

The pencil and pad slipped from her grasp. He caught it-the owner of the voice, using a hand he presumably owned as well. She swung her denim-clad legs onto the wide ledge with as much grace as possible, crossing them and frowning at the man. He was something of a beanpole, as they say, with sticky-uppy hair and sad eyes, cheeks dried out and red from being rubbed raw. He dropped the sketch pad onto the uneven stone and leapt onto the wall next to her sideways, leaning his back against one of the lampposts that jutted from the rock and would soon light up in the fading daylight. She looked down to the ground where her pencil had fallen, possibly hitting some innocent passerby on the head. She woman vaguely entertained the effects of a 2B graphite pencil hitting the human skull after falling from her current elevation. A small voice in her head anxiously muttered about lawyers and lawsuits and getting the fuck out of there before someone looks up, but it shut up when she remembered that it wouldn’t matter now. Nothing did.

“Oh, right. Sorry, here you go.”

He produced a grey utensil from inside his jacket and leaned forward, placed it in the palm of her hand. She lifted it and found it to be heavy-too heavy. It curved gracefully, fanning out at the end to a sort of...feather-shape.

“It’s...beautiful. But what the hell is it?”

He spoke as if he’d been holding his breath, words that sort of tumbled from his mouth like they were trying to escape. 

“It’s a erm...oh, what the hell. I bought it in Sordenia-fourth planet of the Stoon system. It’s condensed graphite; should last a while. Though, come to think of it…you might need a slightly more heavy-duty sharpener.”

She nodded and put it to paper. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. I’m the Doctor, by the way.”

“Just ‘the Doctor’?”

“Yep.

“Why?

He smiled. 

“Not quite sure. I’d have changed it-it’s a bit fraudulent, but I’m a few centuries too late.”

She cocked her head. 

“Do you not have a degree?”

“No, I do. Many of them. But Hippocrates would have a field day with my morals.”

Lorena chuckled. 

“You broke the oath, then?”

“Which one? I broke them all!” He laughed and she did too, and neither of them quite knew why.

* * *

The sun began to sink and Lorena shuddered. 

“It’s a bit nippy,” the Doctor noted. 

“Yeah.”

“Here.” 

He held out his overcoat, a large brown article that looked like it hadn’t been clean in decades but smelled like cheap perfume and something...unearthly. Something old. 

_Like dusty books and meteorites._

“Thanks,” she croaked, and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

“So what are you doing here, Doctor?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“I was sketching, what’s your excuse?”

“You were, but that’s not why you’re here and my erm...vehicle. Broke down. Ish. It’s a long story involving quantum entanglement and a sentient Chesterfield and the fact that supernovas aren’t really harmless, especially if you leave the sunroof open, and I may or may not have abandoned my friend but it sort of wasn’t my fault, and now my erm-vehicle, is cross with me.” He rattled out. Lorena just smiled.

“Nothing you say makes sense,” she mused. “But it clicks.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m not sure yet. Hang on-why’ve I got your coat?”

“You were cold.”

“Aren’t you? You’ve got like, no body fat. You make a girl jealous,” she teased, only half-joking. 

“One; I don’t usually get cold, I’m exceptionally skilled at regulating my body temperature, two; you’re one to talk! And you shouldn’t be, you really…” His face got all frozen and he stared at the ground for a bit too long, with the same eyes her mirror saw in the morning, the same eyes that pistol in her roommate’s closet saw and the same eyes that every single knife in her kitchen has seen and feared. 

“Doctor, you all right?”

He blinked once, twice, exhaled something that looked like the sun and waved to it as it drifted into the sky.

“What...what was that? What are _you?”_

“I’m an alien, and I used to be dying but not anymore. Sorry, usually I’m gentler about it but to be frank I don’t think I could manage that right now.” He smiled apologetically and she just shrugged. 

“Okay. Cool.”

“Cool? You’re not gonna get all...hysterical?”

“No, am I supposed to?”

“No, but you lot usually do.”

“What, women?”

“Don’t be daft. Humans.”

“Right. Well, in my experience, they do seem to have a taste for drama.”

“They do indeed.”

She looked down at her sketch and began adding details to the body on the ground, the pool of blood around her. 

“What’s your name,” he mumbled. 

“Pardon?”

“What do they call you?”

“Lorena.”

“Ah, Lorena. Lovely name. I mean, lovely woman, so...I knew a Loreena once, also lovely-she’d a wonderful voice, sang Celtic music. _Very_ ginger. I mean, _aggressively_ ginger. I’d have hated her for it if she weren’t so...brilliant.” He smiled. 

“Loreena McKennit?”

He beamed. 

“Yeah, you know her?” 

“I know _of_ her.”

The Doctor nodded. 

“Hell of a woman,” he said. 

“Hell of a voice.”

He watched her drawing for a moment. 

“You haven’t got on heels, though.” 

“What?”

The man sat up and shimmied over to her, pointing at the high heels the body on the ground in her drawing wore. He didn’t miss that the body in the sketch was nearly identical to Lorena. He was working on that, though. 

“You’re wearing boots, not heels.”

“They’ve got heels.”

“Yeah, but those are stilettos, yours are chunkier.”

Lorena shrugged. 

“Wait-why would I-how did…” 

“Of course I did, Lorena. Anyone like you would know.”

She just nodded and continued drawing. 

“I guess you’ll be wearing stilettos tomorrow, then?”

“I guess I will be. It’s too dark now, and it’s not like I knew you’d show up and stop me.”

“Who says I’m gonna stop you?”

She smiled. 

“Logic, the scent of your coat and the fact that nothing that wonderful has ever happened before.”

The Doctor smiled. 

“Yeah, I suppose not. I was trying to be mysterious, you sort of ruined it.”

She laughed and folded her sketch pad closed. 

“I think the alien pencil is mystery enough, don’t you?”

“Hardly.”

Lorena crossed her arms and put the sketch pad back in her satchel. 

“I’m going to head home.”

The Doctor stared wistfully at the ground and she took a chance, tapping his arm. 

“Hey. Is your vehicle…?”

“Hmm? Oh, no...not quite yet. Though I should probably check. Yeah, I’ll check on her.” 

He stood up from the wall and winced, bracing himself against it and panting. 

“Shit, are you hurt?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then stood up with an arm still around his waist. 

“Remember how I said I was dying?”

“You said used to be, as in past tense!”

“Right, well, I think I may have been a bit ambitious.”

“So you’re still dying?”

“Yes. Sort of. Well, yes, but not for very long.”

“Can you walk?”

He frowns at her. 

“‘Course I can walk.”

The Doctor pushed himself to his feet and immediately stumbled, and when he pulled his hand away, it was coated with blood.

“Right, you’re coming to my place.”

“What? Why would I-“

“My flatmate’s a nurse. You may be alien, but you look human and so does your blood and whatever happened to you, painkillers and a cup of tea certainly wouldn’t go amiss.”

He looked at her funny. 

“What?”

“Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“Because you aren’t very scary, especially when you’re bleeding out on the ground so come on, let’s get you sorted.”

She hooked an arm under his and helped him to his feet, and the two of them stumbled down the path. 

“Just let me get to the TARDIS, I’ll be fine in there.”

“Where is it?”

“Erm...take a left.”

“Here?”

“No, next one.”

The two of them hobbled down the narrow sidewalk and rounded the next corner, where a dark blue box stood next to the side entrance of a shop. 

The Doctor stumbled towards it and fumbled with the key. 

“Is this it? The TARDIS?”

He darkened. 

“How did you know that? Who are you _really_ ? Because I swear on every planet in this galaxy that whoever you are and whoever you’re working for will never, _never_ get their hands on _my TARDIS._ I am the oncoming storm, predator of the daleks, protector of planet Earth and I walked from the blazes of the Last Great Time War and I’ve seen things your mind cannot even _begin_ to comprehend so if you think you have any chance against me, _me,_ you could not be more wrong. _”_

Lorena blinked. 

“You called it the TARDIS earlier. I just connected the dots.”

He shrugged. 

“Oh. Okay then. I’ll be back in a mo, don’t worry.” 

He slipped inside and the door creaked shut, and Lorena stood there, waiting. There was a loud banging from inside and the Doctor came back out with soot on his nose and a bit of his hair singed. 

Lorena turned. 

“Everything all right?”

“No, it’s all wrong. The stove is in the library for some reason and everything keeps blowing up and there’s this toxic smoke everywhere and it’s sort of raining acid in the parlour so I think it’s best we give her some time to cool off.”

She nodded. 

“Right, yeah. Sorry-the library? Parlour? Stove-it’s a box. How…?”

The Doctor opened mouth to speak but shut it quickly and groaned, clutching his side. 

“Fine, take a peek, it’ll be faster than explaining it.”

“In there?”

“Yeah, it’s unlocked.”

Lorena opened the door gently, gasping at what she saw inside. 

“Oh my god, there’s a concert hall.”

The Doctor frowned. 

“What? Let me see.”

He peeked his head in as well. 

“No, no, no!”

“What’s wrong?”

The Doctor started shouting into the ceiling.

“I liked that console room and I’d also very much like it _back._ I know you liked her and I liked her too, but it wasn’t my fault and throwing auditoriums at me _isn’t going to fix anything!”_

With that, he slammed the door shut, locked it and held out his arm. 

“Madame.”

Lorena smiled. 

“Sir.”

She looped her arm in his and they started walking. She tried not to mention how his gait slipped and he hunched over a bit. 

“My flat, it’s to the right.”

It took three minutes for her to finally ask. 

“Why was there an auditorium in a box? Why wasn’t there a console room? Why would there be a-what’s the console room for and-who was _she?”_

The Doctor sighed. 

“Friend of mine. Her name was...her name-“ He seemed to struggle for a second. 

“No, can’t say it, it’s too soon.”

“You don’t have to.”

He sucked in a breath. 

“I know. But I lost her...she’s not dead, just somewhere else. And I can’t reach her. She’s safer now, though. Away from me. I suppose she would always have been safe if I’d just left her alone. I’d be dead, though. Without her. Saved my life.”

“Sounds like she meant a lot to you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I’d be dead…” he muttered. “Anyway-we travelled, the two of us. Sometimes she brought her boyfriend. He was a moron, but he was a fun moron.”

“Oh, so you and her weren’t…?”

“No. Well, a bit. Well...I mean, it was complicated. She’s in her early twenties and I’m-well, I’ll still be alive long after she isn’t and if-I don’t know what I’d do if she died. If I had to watch her, day by day.”

“I think I know what you’d do,” Lorena said, and she nearly kicked herself for it.

He smiled, but it was the saddest thing she’d ever seen.

“I think you’re right. And we can’t have that-too many people depending on me. So I’m here and she’s there, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And now, my ship is almost as pissed with me as I am, but she’s the one throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m sure you did all you could.”

“How would you know?”

The coldness in his voice took her by surprise. 

“I don’t, but it sounds like you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“But whatever happened, it wasn’t that simple, was it?”

He looked away. 

“No, no it wasn’t.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think...its’ my first time writing a DW fic. Does the Doctor seem out of character?


	2. Alien Magic

They made it to Lorena’s flat, and there was nobody home. 

“She must be out for the night…”

“Who’s ‘Jose’?”

“What?”

Lorena switched on the lights and deposited her purse and the Doctor’s coat on the hall tree. He was standing over the kitchen island with a note in his hand.

_My phone’s not working, so I did it the old fashioned way._

_I’m staying at Jose’s tonight, but you have his number if you need me._

_-Larissa XOXO_

“Oh, he’s Larissa’s...something. They won’t admit to it yet. Larissa’s my flatmate. The nurse. Shit…” she muttered, and disappeared into the bathroom. Lorena walked back in with the first aid kit, and the Doctor had the kettle on. 

“Stop it, you’re injured.”

“You really can’t help me, I’m sorry.”

“Is it bad? Let me see.”

“Lorena-”

“Please. I just want to help.”

He made an ‘ughhhh’ noise in his throat and unbuttoned his jacket, lifted up his shirt. There was a large gash across his abdomen that should have been bleeding buckets, but it was only strawberry-red flesh that seeped a bit. 

“Blimey-that’s, holy shit-oh my god-”

“You’re gonna run out of exclamations soon-yeah, I know, but it’s all right, see?”

He shut his eyes in concentration and for a second, the wound seemed to stitch itself back up. 

“How are you doing that?”

“Erm...alien magic,” he grinned, making his fingers dance.

She rolled her eyes and threw some gauze and a bottle of painkillers at him. 

“Well, alien or not, that magic’s working slow, your shirt’s soaked and that’s _got_ to hurt, so take this, I’ll find you something comfortable to change into.”

Before he could protest, Lorena was already gone. The Doctor sighed and took off his shirt completely, wrapping the gauze round his waist and pinning it in place. He didn’t need her help, but she was right. His shirt wasn’t rust-red when he bought it. Lorena came back and quickly swallowed a gasp. He was covered in scars- _covered._ They ran down his skin like huge claw marks, but those weren’t the worst. Because then, there were the other ones-long, curling, twisting lines and words, in various languages. One of them was circular, round spheres with lines all over. It was beautiful, and it was horrible. 

_That had to have hurt._

There were bruises that peppered his back and fresh wounds, acid burns and deep gouges. 

He had gauze around his waist and an ace wrap over it like a belt, and he was spinning around, looking for something. 

“Where is it?”

“What?”

He froze. 

“Erm. Hello.”

Lorena frowned, and tried to keep it cool. 

“Hi? I brought you some sweats and a shirt-my ex left it here last month. What are you looking for?”

The Doctor seemed to shut down but Lorena wasn’t going to let him. She eyed a glinting piece of metal on the ground, stooped to pick it up. It was one of those bitey-clip-things, the ones that keep wraps from unravelling. 

“This?”

He robotically took it from her hand and she forced her eyes to stay on his face. 

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome!”

She smiled, and pushed past him to the cupboard in the opposite wall of the kitchen. 

“What sort of tea do you like? I’ve got mint, Earl Grey, this ridiculous weight-loss tea Larissa’s been buying-it’s absolutely rubbish, just makes you feel all...pukey. Although I suppose that might’ve been the point. Is Earl Grey all right?”

She turned around and he’d put the shirt on, seemingly gained his composure. 

“Early Grey sounds lovely.”

He grinned. His smile was too wide. 

“Right, then. Bathroom’s down that hall, second door on your right.”

“Thanks.” 

She sighs and puts a few pinches of tea in the strainer as the kettle begins to boil, thinking over the past few hours. She went to the wall to maybe-kill herself, drew a picture, lost her pencil, got a new one from an alien who’s grieving, possibly suicidal and has got a spaceship that’s sentient and looks like a telephone box from the fifties, _took the alien to her home-_ and now, she’s making tea while he’s in the bathroom, changing into her ex’s clothing. 

_What the fuck?_

The kettle started screeching and she poured it over the leaves, setting a timer on her cellphone. The Doctor sauntered back in, holding his soiled clothes. 

“Have you got a bag, or something?”

“Can I just put them in the wash?”

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Its’ fine.”

Lorena took the bundle from his arms and put them in the washing machine for a soak, then ran back to the kitchen just in time for the alarm to go off. The Doctor had already taken the strainer out and placed it on an errant dish. She got two mugs down from the cabinet, and he poured. 

“Milk or sugar?”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

“Why are you being helpful?”

He frowned. 

“Because I’m such an angel. I just can’t stop myself,” he said. 

Lorena rolled her eyes. 

“Seriously though, you’re my guest. Stop it.”

“No ma’am.”

* * *

Lorena had gone to grab a shower but realised after that she’d already packed her stuff. She swore, perhaps a bit more than the situation called for. With a huff, she patted her body dry, slid into a dressing gown and shoved her wet feet into slippers. She hoped she’d be able to sneak past him but there was the Doctor, exactly where she’d left him and eyeing her curiously. 

“Is everything okay?”

She nodded and grabbed two large boxes from the lounge adjacent to the kitchen. 

“Just had to grab some clothes.”

“Why are they in boxes?” he probed, and she glared at him. 

“You know why. I was being proactive.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lorena threw on some leggings and a sweatshirt, wrapped her hair up in the towel and headed back to the kitchen to retrieve her tea. 

“You _can_ sit down, you know. The furniture doesn’t bite.”

“Ah, you never know. On Farparella 7, there’s a race of ottomans that have developed hidden teeth. They eat their victims feet-first.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You just made that up.”

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

They both laughed. 

Lorena poured herself more tea and walked into the lounge, plopping down onto the sofa. The Doctor followed, settling on the other end. 

“How’s the wound, is it getting better?”

“Slowly but surely.”

“What happened?”

He gripped his mug. 

“I was orbiting a supernova in order to use its power and I forgot to enable the shields...so when the thing sent out it’s last wave, my ship was damaged. She’ll heal, but I ended up getting...there was a piece of metal at the bottom of the stairs that was all sticky-outy, and I fell.”

Lorena nodded. 

“By accident,” he added, a bit panicked. 

“Well of course it was by accident.”

“Yeah.”

She frowned. 

_So... not by accident. What am I going to do with him…_

“You’re alien. You are, _an_ alien.”

“Yep.”

“From space.”

“Yes-although, I do have a UK citizenship so I suppose I’m a double-alien.”

She smiled. 

“So. You’re an alien, you’re significantly older than you look, your body has the ability to heal itself but still leaves scar tissue, and-”

He sucked in a breath. 

“And you’ve got a spaceship called the TARDIS, except it looks like an old police box and it’s bigger on the inside, and it’s sentient. And now you’re on my sofa, drinking tea in my ex’s clothing.”

He squinted at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Why me, though? Why’d you come and sit next to me, why didn’t you just pop over the cafe near your box and grab a cuppa?”

He sighed. 

“Well, I was dying a little bit, and I’m pretty sure I’d have collapsed about twenty paces later. And you seemed nice enough.”

Lorena furrows her brow.

“No, that’s not why. You’re lying.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew what you were going to do. Might have done. And I knew what I felt like doing. And at that moment, Lorena McAllister, you were the only human on this Earth that could help me and I, you.”

She thought this over, and the Doctor gulped down the last of his tea with a loud _‘ahhh’_ and grinned. 

“Right. Don’t humans eat dinner? You’ll never guess who taught me how to cook!”

He stood up lighting fast and immediately regretted it, leaning heavily against the wall. Lorena was up in an instant, but he swatted her away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Sure you are, now sit your arse down.”

He grinned and fell back into the couch while Lorena stalked off with their mugs in hand. 

She came back with two blankets and draped one over the Doctor, dropping the other one in her spot.

“I swear to god Lorena if you try to tuck me in-”

“What, you’ll smite me with your alien powers?”

He glared at her. 

“Something like that.”

She just grinned at him and retrieved her phone from her purse to call in dinner. 

“I hope soup’s all right. Is soup all right?”

“Er-yeah, soup’s fine. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. It’ll be here in half an hour.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone’s delivering it.”

“What, the restaurant?”

“No, somebody from DoorDash is going to pick it up for us and bring it here.”

“They didn’t have that last time I was here...blimey, the human race. There’s an entire company profiting because you can’t go and pick up dinner.”

“Oi!” She shouted from the kitchen.

“What am I supposed to do, leave you here?”

“I’m a big kid now, I can take care of myself!”

“Yeah, tell that to the gaping hole in your stomach.”

“It was an accident…” he grumbled. 

“So you keep saying…” 

And for a moment, the Doctor’s hearts beated a little bit faster. 

“Here.”

Lorena handed him a fresh cup of tea and put a plate of Jammie Dodgers on the table. 

“We’re about to have dinner, though.”

She shrugged and shoved a biscuit in her mouth, chasing it down with tea. 

“Blimey, I haven’t had these in ages.”

The Doctor picked one up and inspected it before taking a nibble.

“Why not?”

“Dieting,” she explained.

“Why?” 

She looked at him incredulously, but he seemed genuinely confused. 

“Why not.”

“That’s not fair…” he complained. 

She just grinned and switched on the telly. 

The Doctor didn’t really like television, but luckily, it was some nature documentary. 

“Oh-is that Sir David Attenborough?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Didn’t know he was narrating documentaries now. He’s quite good. Even better at parcheesi, though.”

“You’ve played _parcheesi_ with David Attenborough?”

The Doctor nodded and watched, enthralled, as an owl swooped in and devoured some innocent rodent they’d been following. 

“And Queen Hatshepsut.”

“The egyptian, Queen Hatshepsut??”

“That’s the one. She was rubbish, mind you, but I let her win. It was that or execution.”

Lorena just nodded. 

“Right. So you’re a time traveller as well, then?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘P’. 

“Cool.”

“You bet it is. Very cool.”

She just smiled. For someone who seemed so sad, and so old, he possessed this youthful joy she’d only ever seen in toddlers, the ones who say things you never quite considered and ask questions you wouldn’t begin to be able to answer. Except he knew all the answers, too, and you could see how it broke his heart to have both floating about in his head. 


	3. Because You Wore the Shoes

The doorbell rang and The Doctor looked about ready to murder it. 

“It’s fine, it’s just the food.”

She got up and paid the man at the door, took the soups and poured them into bowls, returning to the sitting room with dinner and napkins. 

“Right, do you want gazpacho or minestrone?”

“Whichever, it’s up to you.”

She sighed and gave him the minestrone, mainly because she found it to be the most delicious of the two. 

“Y’know, I’ve spent so many years on this planet, just gallivanting about the place, but your wildlife is really quite incredible.”

“Thanks?”

He grinned and inhaled the soup, then coughed up some sunshine again, a glowing sort of smoke that floated through the air and along the ceiling before disappearing into the vents. 

“What is that?”

“Time Lord energy.”

“Is that what you are, a Time Lord?”

“Yes.”

“The other Time Lords, do they travel like you do? Y’know...buying alien pencils and saving young women and eating soup?”

He smiled for a moment but then it was gone, and the most heartbreaking thing just seemed to fill up his face like a glass. 

“It was-they did, yes. Not like I do. They would never interfere. Just watch, just observe. I’d have been arrested by now and thrown under the cloisters for all the times I’ve messed with things.”

She tilted her head. 

“So why haven’t you?”

“Because there aren’t any left. I’m the last Time Lord.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You wouldn’t be if you knew.”

“...knew what?”

He stared at the pattern of the blanket before breathing again, picking up his bowl and mug and taking them to the kitchen. 

“Thank you so much for having me, but I should really get back to my-the TARDIS, and I-”

“You’re-”

“I’m in your ex’s clothes. Right. Erm…”

“Just stay, Doctor. You’re hurt, anyway.”

“Stay. Stay…” he muttered, like the thought of it scared him. It did, a little bit. 

“Yes. Stay. Your clothes aren’t ready yet and I’m really not comfortable with you totting off to your time machine when there’s an auditorium in the front room and bits of metal sticking out and  _ you,  _ just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t...I don’t know why, but I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I, but it’s not fair that I-”

“It’s fine. Just come sit down, let’s see what happens to the baby owls and get some sleep, yeah?”

He stared, at nothing for a moment, wide-eyed, before agreeing.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and he let her lead him back to the sofa where he sat down in the middle and she next to him, a soft blanket draped over the both of them. 

* * *

By the time the documentary was over, the Doctor had fallen asleep. Lorena smiled and snuck out from under the blanket, laying it back over him and creeping off to the laundry room, where she used cold water and a Water Pik to wash out the blood from the Doctor’s clothes. It took her about forty minutes and she wasn’t entirely sure why she was so committed to it, but she hung it all up to dry and laid back down on the couch to checked her email. 

At about three o’clock, Lorena woke up to a sound-a very pained sound. The doctor was mumbling something in his sleep, crying out. 

“Doctor?”

“No, dont, please...no...Rose, please… _ please!” _

“It’s just a dream, you’re fine.”

“ _ I can’t… _ just leave me! Let it kill me, let me-please leave me, I can’t do this I can’t...Run, Rose, Run!”

“Doctor!”

She held him by the shoulders. 

“It’s Lorena, you’re all right. You’re on my sofa, it’s three AM.”

“I’m…” He gulped, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t...sleep isn’t...Time Lords don’t need sleep, but I’m healing, not really used to-”

“It’s fine, just close your eyes.”

“Yeah…night.”

“Night night.”

He laid back down and tried not to drift off again, but much to his displeasure, he did. 

* * *

“Ugh...blimey, what’s the time?”

“Half-past noon.”

“Half past-I slept until half-past noon?”

“Yep.”

“How did I manage that?”

Lorena smirked. 

“‘Dunno,  _ Time Lord _ , but you seem well-rested.”

“Yeah.”

He stood up and checked his bandage-the wound was gone, replaced by a band of delicate, pink scar tissue. He ripped it off and threw it in the bin. 

“Your stuff’s dry, so...oh, wow.”

She put his folded clothing on the table and looked inquisitively at the scar. 

“That’s incredible…”

His fingers ghosted over the scar and he dropped the hem of his shirt. 

“It’s gone.”

“Yeah, it is…”

“Why do you sound sad?”

The Doctor took the bundle from her and started down the hallway. 

“I’m not. Thanks.”

Lorena sighed and put the kettle on before carrying a box into her room and changing into another pair of jeans, a new blouse, her jacket from the previous evening and heels. _Those_ heels. She ran to the kettle just a second after the water boiled and poured it over the leaves. 

A strange whirring noise could be heard from the bathroom. 

“Are you okay in there?”

“What? Yeah, no, I’m fine.”

She returned to the kitchen and by the time the doctor emerged, there was a warm thermos of some white tea she’d gotten in a gift basket waiting for him. 

“Right, well, it was lovely, and thank you so much for-well, everything. I’d better get back to the TARDIS, see if she’s ready to leave yet.”

Inexplicably, a sad weight settled in her stomach. 

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna go? Like that?”

He sighed, staring at the floor with a hand draped across his abdomen. 

“Yep. ‘Fraid so.”

“Well, I made you tea.”

She thrust the thermos into his hand with as little dejected anger as she could muster. 

“I-thank you, Lorena.”

“It’s nothing.”

She grabbed her coat and the bag with her sketching materials, following the Doctor and locking the door behind her. He gave her an odd look.

“I’ve got to head back to the bridge, finish my drawing.”

He nodded. 

“Right…”

They made their way down the street and up to the bridge. 

“Whatever happened to Marissa?”

“You mean Larissa?”

“Yes, that.”

“She’s probably having a lie in at Jose’s.”

“Ah. Do you know when she’ll be coming home?”

Lorena sighed. 

“No, Doctor, I don’t, but I’ll be just fine on my own.”

He squinted at the sky. 

“Yeah...I’m not quite sure you will be.”

“And you will?”

He grinned. 

“Touché. But I’ll manage, I always do…”

“Well if that’s the game we’re playing then I’ll be just fine as well.”

She smiled at him broadly, a fake display. He just tilted his head mockingly at her. 

They got to the alley and the Doctor turned. 

“I erm...I’d better go.”

“To the auditorium?”

“Well, hopefully it’s at least got a console now.”

She smiled. 

“Right, then. Enjoy the tea. Happy trails,” she said. He just nodded. 

“You too.”

And the Doctor walked away and so did Lorena, clutching her sketchbook through the fabric of her bag. Ten minutes later and she was on the wall, just a bit closer to the edge than the last time. She briefly wondered if she’d ever meet anyone like the Doctor again, but her pencil hit paper and she inspected the shoe on her foot, copying it into the sketch. 

He turned the key and pushed the door to be greeted with the console room.  _ His  _ console room. He smiled, threw his coat over the chair and ran his hands along the controls. 

“Thanks, old girl. I miss her too, but she’s gone.”

The TARDIS warbled sadly and he pressed his head against the main column and breathed. 

“But I won’t be gone. Don’t worry.”

Her purple shirt was slung over the railing and a single silvery tear rolled down his cheek. He made no effort to wipe it away. 

“Right, then. Let’s go somewhere, your choice.”

He pulled the levers, toggled the toggle switches and zigged and zagged the zig-zag plotter, but he went nowhere. The TARDIS remained firmly on the Florentine asphalt and a noise reverberated around the walls. 

“Oh come on, it’s too soon. I know what you’re trying to do, but I can’t. Not yet. Let’s just get out of here, yeah?”

He repeated the process and again, nothing. 

“Bloody hell-no! I thought you were over this,” he muttered.  “Is there a problem? Are you not feeling well?”

He pulled around the display and checked the engines, but the screen changed immediately to show him a single, high-heeled shoe. It was black suede, a stiletto. 

_ She was wearing them today.  _

“Well, fuck.” He muttered, left his coat where it was and took off to find Lorena. 

She stared at the drawing. There was nothing else she could add to it-the texture of the stone was perfect, the way her hair spiralled round her bleeding head. This was it. 

_ Time’s up.  _

She looked around, there was only a woman and her child nearby, and she waited for them to pass. 

Lorena stood up on the wall, a hand braced against the lamp post. 

She breathed shakily, stuck a leg out over the edge and-

And someone tackled her from behind. 

_ No, I’ve been waiting too long.. _

_ Finally got the courage to actually do _ _ it...he can’t, it’s not fair! _

“Put me down! Put me down, I swear to god-“ She cried, as the Doctor pulled her off the wall by her armpits and sat her back down, facing him. 

“Why did you  _ do  _ that?” She shouted, but when she finally looked at him, he was broken. 

Utterly, broken.  And it scared her. 

“You were actually going to do it, weren’t you,” he demanded, and his voice sort of reminded her of what happens when you put fondant over a bare cake. Smooth and calm, but failing to hide the roughness underneath. 

“So? Since when is it up to  _ you,  _ you’re not even human!”

His grip was strong on her wrist and she tried to yank it away. He didn’t fail to notice how she winced-perhaps a bit more than she should. He wasn’t hurting her, he  _ knew  _ he wasn’t hurting her. And yet…

“Doctor?”

He sighed, gulped and stood straight. Didn’t let go. 

“You are not my friend. I don’t know you. You could be anyone. But as long as I am able, I’m not letting anyone in this reality like _you_ make anyone in this reality like _me_ feel the way that I do right now, because it is the way I know I will always feel for centuries to come and if you’re gonna do  _ this  _ to the people who care for you, then I will too and on our way down, you and I will hear half the universe and about fifty people  _ scream.” _

She stared at her palms as he took her hands in his. 

Tears cascaded from her eyes and shone too bright, too clear in the sunlight, like liquid diamonds. She sniffled, a sharp juxtaposition to her overall softness, voice heavy with vocal fry.

“Why did you come back?” 

He sighed. 

“Because you wore the shoes, Lorena.”

She nodded. 

“Should’ve packed them and changed when I got here.”

The Doctor smirked. 

“Shut up, you’re glad I came.”

She looks away. 

“You are, right?”

Lorena chuckled bitterly . 

“God help me, I am.”

He smiled at that. 

“Well don’t give God all the credit.”

She laughed a little and hopped down from the ledge, shoved her sketch pad back in the bag and snagged his hand, heading back into town. 

“Come on, spaceboy. We’re getting lunch.”

  
  


They stopped at a little place in town, sat on a balcony over the street. There was one of those tall heaters directly behind Lorena, and she felt waves of heat wash her skin under the cardigan she wore beneath her coat, which was already draped over the back of her chair. 

“But it was too late, and we missed the sunrise. A shame, but we  _ did  _ rescue an entire planet, so I guess it wasn’t for naught,” the Doctor said, sipping his water. 

“But couldn’t you just go back fifteen minutes and see it?”

“You can’t revisit your own timeline; creates paradoxes.”

“Ah. So...that’s what you do, then. You pick up young human women and you take them to see the stars.”

He smiled. 

“Among other things.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is.”

Lorena prodded at her food for a second, brow wrinkled. 

“Wait-then you’re alone now?”

He sighed, probably because she seemed like quite the opportunist at the moment. 

“Yep.”

“You travel through all of time and space, save planets and galaxies and get lost and found...all on your own?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrifying. And lonely.”

He smiled. 

“Yeah, I suppose it is. But it’s beautiful, Y’know. Always more to see. My friend, I used to show her the most amazing things. When I’m by myself, it’s like ‘yeah, I guess I could swing by the Nephertoonian Rings again…’, but with Rose, I just…”

He watched her coffee mug with a tangible sadness, before breathing in like he’d woken up. 

“Anyway. Just me now. But it’s fine, that’s-fine. You ever...travel? You’re a student, yeah?”

Lorena dabbed her mouth with her napkin. 

“I’m supposed to be in grad school in London, but I...I dunno, I just sort of fell apart. Told my mum I’d give it a year, just wander round Europe ‘til then. Ended up here.”

He nodded. 

“D’you ever wonder what it’s like out there?”

“What, in space?”

“Space, history, the future.”

She contemplated for a moment. 

“Yeah...I’ve always wondered what it would be like to show someone from the twenties what the world’s become.”

The Doctor smiled knowingly. 

“To show them the things they can’t comprehend.”

She lit up. 

“Exactly!”

“That look they get, when they see something unlike anything they’ve ever seen before, and their eyes just get so wide, they become reflection pools for all the stars and all their planets and every, shining creature.” 

“Yeah,” she murmured, and the Doctor just looked so...happy. 

_ No, that’s not it… _

_ He looks captivated.  _

_ How could he possibly be captivated? _

He rested his chin in his hands and grinned. 

“You’re alive,” he breathed. 

She didn’t miss a beat, retorting with thinly-painted sarcasm.

”Don’t remind me, we were having a moment!”

“No, really, you are.” He looked down at the street, at the passersby on their phones and their bikes, in their cars and their shoes. 

“Those people milling about down there are just...not-dead. Hyphenated. But you’re more than that, you’re just...gleaming with life and a lust for sights unseen, songs unappreciated; it’s bleeding from your being like ichor…” He glows. “You’re bursting from the seams.”

She smiled sadly and traced her fingertips over the microscopic ridges in the tablecloth. 

“But that’s the trouble, Doctor. I haven’t got any.”

“Any what?”

“Seams.”

* * *

They finished up and began their walk back, and that was when he finally had to ask. 

The two of them turned the corner and the Doctor stood with his key in the lock.

Lorena sighed.

“So...I guess this is goodbye, then?”

“Come with me.” He blurted out. 

“Sorry?”

“I was wondering if perhaps...you might like to come with me.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you like. I just...it’s selfish, but I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Neither do I.”

He beamed and opened the doors with grandeur, strode up the walkway with arms akimbo. 

“Welcome, to the TARDIS.”


	4. Mutually-Assured Survival

She walked the circumference of the console with warmth in her cheeks. 

_Bigger on the inside, bigger on the inside, come on, say it…_

The Doctor chanted in his head. 

Her fingertips grazed the textured surface of one of the tree-shaped support columns, and flash of light within it swam to the ceiling, accompanied by a soft appreciative warble that seemed to emanate from everything around her. 

_Bigger on the inside, bigger on the-_

“She’s beautiful,” Lorena breathed. She spun round to look at him, with lips parted and stars in her glossy eyes. All he could do was smile. 

“I know, right?”

She walked towards him, the awestruck look on her face morphing nearly instantaneously into giddy curiosity. She rested her elbows on the console and grinned toothily.

“So how does it work? I’m guessing it doesn’t run on petrol.”

He smiled. 

“Basically, it feeds off the energy of a decaying star.”

“That doesn’t sound very sustainable.”

“It’s in a time loop. Constantly in the process of becoming a black hole. The TARDIS is powered by that energy transfer.”

“Ah. And what about size? Is it a separate dimension stuffed in here?”

The Doctor beamed. 

“Yep. Yeah, it is. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

She batted a humbling hand at him. 

“Shut up…”

“I’m serious, you are. Brilliant. Positively marvellous.”

“Keep it up and I’ll look like a human tomato.”

“D’y’know, there’s actually a planet in the Swaveux galaxy where everything is made out of tomatoes?”

She gives him a funny look. 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Hundred percent. Well, not quite tomatoes, they’re sort of flat and they taste like beef jerky but they’re pretty similar. Wanna see?”

“I-“

“Actually, the eighth asteroidal resort of Conspirano has this anti-grav massage thing, rated second best spa experience in the universe!”

“What happened to the first one?”

“I erm...blew it up. Accidentally. Long story, evil pigeons, best left in the past.”

She nodded. 

“Right.”

“There’s also-hold on, I’m riffing. I _said_ I’d stop doing that. Sorry. Where do _you_ want to go, Lorena?”

She took a second to recover from the barrage of information that had just pummelled her brain. 

“How about...somewhere ordinary.”

“Pardon?”

“Like, Y’know how you can visit Paris and see the Eiffel Tower and you can still say ‘hey, I’ve been to France’, but you haven’t been to the _real_ France-that is, the little restaurants on the outskirts of Provence where only locals eat, or the random little villages that aren’t particularly special, but they’re what France _really_ is, and somehow, without the glitz and the glam and the manufactured Parisian-aesthetic, it’s more charming than anything else?”

The Doctor grinned. 

“Nearly six hundred years of time and space and I have never gotten a request like that. I know just the place!”

“Wait, did you say _six hundred years??”_

“Right-o! Better hang on to something!”

“Why? W-“ 

Lorena screamed as the ground she stood on shook and the whole ship lurched and clutched the railing with all her strength. The Doctor was flipping switches and spinning dials at speeds that should have been impossible, and a loud, grating noise filled the air. Only fourteen seconds later, they were both on their backs lying on the floor, laughing breathlessly. 

“Does-“ she wheezed, “does that-“

“Yeah, that always happens.”

“Ah.”

The Doctor shot up to his feet and offered her a hand. She took it, but spots danced in her vision and she swayed dangerously. He caught her just in time. 

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Did you hit your head? I should really get padding put in…”

“No, no I’m fi-ine.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Fine.”

He frowned. 

“No you aren’t.”

“‘Kay, little bit not all right. Just dehydrated.”

He didn’t buy it. 

“Sure. Well, the water here is some of the purest in the Twelve System Union, so we’ll find you some, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Right. You good?” He asked, bounding down the walkway. 

“Just a mo.”

Lorena popped off both her stilettos and slid into the ballet flats she had folded into her bag. 

“Do all girls carry multiple pairs of shoes?”

She grinned. 

“Depends. I do, if I’m wearing heels.”

“Didn’t seem like you planned on taking them off anytime soon when you left the house this morning, though.”

Her face darkened and guilt hit the Doctor like a slap to the face. 

“Force of habit, I s’pose…” she muttered, then stood up and strode out the door as animatedly as she could without passing out. 

“You coming or what?” She teased, but there was trepidation in her rigid posture as she stepped onto alien soil for the first time. The Doctor turned around to lock the door. As he closed it, the TARDIS sent an approving warble his way. 

“Yeah, I know.” He murmured. 

They’d landed in the middle of nowhere, but there was music in the distance. They walked about a mile through a pasture of white grass before finding a bustling market, not unlike the ones she’d seen on Earth. 

“It’s rather like Marrakesh,” Lorena pointed out. 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

They wandered about before finding a vendor selling the famed water. 

Lorena grinned. 

“Purest water in the Twelve-System Union?”

“Purest water in the Twelve-System Union,” he grinned. 

He spoke plain English, and the vendor responded in kind, with what sounded like Slovenian accent if it were mashed with that of a squirrel from Budapest. The vendor held up a sort of box, and the Doctor buzzed it with his screwdriver. The screen lit up and they were given two bottles of the water. He pocketed one and handed the other to Lorena, who looked for a cap. It appeared to be solid glass-or, whatever glass was on this planet.

“How do I…”

“Just drink. Automatic matter phaser.”

She frowned and held it up to her lips, and sure enough, the barrier disappeared. 

“Mm. That’s delicious.”

He grinned. 

“I know. Come along. _Allons-y!”_

They met a lizard named Garpho, saw a play and went skydiving...sort of? And rescued a bag of space-puppies from a river and took down a ring of illegal poachers before heading back to the TARDIS. 

Lorena was leaning against the railing, and the Doctor hung up his coat. 

“So, madame. Was it satisfactory?”

She grinned. 

“Satisfactory? That was amazing!”

“It was, rather. You’re probably hungry, right?”

Lorena shrugged. 

“I’m all right if you are.”

The Doctor gave her a look. 

“Right, you must be full from all that...water.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget the air _. So much oxygen!”_

“I know, it really sticks to your ribs, doesn’t it?”

They chuckled. 

“Right. Come on, then. Kitchen.”

Lorena frowned and ran after him down the hallway. 

“You’ve got a kitchen?”

“‘Course I’ve got a kitchen, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but only in my flat, not my spaceship.”

“Maybe you need a bigger spaceship, then.”

“Maybe I do,” she giggled. 

The Doctor whipped up something involving chicken and artichokes and various other alien foodstuffs. It seemed to emanate a sort of orangey glow that Lorena’s brain told her it shouldn’t have but _damn_ was it good. She was halfway through a large bowl of the stuff, sat back on the Doctor’s sofa and watching _To Catch a Thief._ She had a leg on the ground and the other folded under herself. Her shoes were somewhere under the couch, probably, and she was sunken into the cushions like it was her own house, feeling just a bit piggish. The Doctor had his feet up on the coffee table, arms folded and his demeanour seemed to resemble that of a closed-up fan. Lorena felt her body flash with heat and cold. Her head felt heavy as her brain seemed to turn to vapour and back. 

“Shit,” she muttered. The bowl was nearly dropped on the table with a sharp _crack_ and Lorena took off to the powder room. Her whole body lurched and she spewed into the bowl, chunks of food hitting the water and splashing her forehead, which was wrinkled in disgust. At some point or another, a warm hand had found its way to her back and rubbed soothingly. When it was finally over, she rocked back on her heels and spit into the bow, rested her head against its rim. The hand was nowhere to be found. Her body began to spasm with cold and she shivered, felt like her bones were made of chilled packing peanuts. 

The Doctor walked in with a towel and a glass of water, both of which were handed to her in a way that seemed too fast, like they were attacking her, almost. She reached out and wiped her face lazily with the towel, then swished and spit until her mouth tasted like chalk and battery acid. Lorena wiped off the toilet seat with toilet paper and flushed it, struggling to stay on her feet. 

“It’s all right, I’ve got you.”

All of a sudden, there was and arm around her waist, guiding her back to the living room where she all but collapsed into the sofa. The Doctor disappeared into the kitchen and handed her a glass of water, put a mug with the tag of a teabag hanging over the side. He turned the lights on and dimmed them, then sat on the opposite side of the sofa, facing her. Lorena sipped her water slowly and glanced over to him, and he seemed to be debating what to say. Probably ruling out anything along the lines of _‘are you okay?’._

“That wasn’t a lot of food,” is what he settled on and _dammit,_ if that wasn’t one of the worst things he could have possibly said. 

“Felt like it,” she said. 

“Not particularly.”

Lorena just shrugged, making a noncommittal noise into her glass. She leaned forward and put it on the table, trying to ignore the wooziness in her head. 

“I erm...I’m sorry I puked in your toilet.”

He smirked. 

“Where else were you gonna do it?”

“No, I mean...I just-“

She seemed to struggle for a moment. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for? It’s not your fault. Well, not really. Little bit your fault. But not entirely. I mean, the puking wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah…”

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m worried. And don’t-yeah, I know, don’t give me that look. Your behaviours concern me, is all.”

Lorena’s eyes went wide. 

“You bloody hypocrite!”

The Doctor grinned stupidly. 

“I know, I know, but this is different, Lorena.”

“How? How could it be _different?”_

“Because-because _that_ is different. And while we’re in each other’s presence, we seem to be in a sort of...mutually-assured...survival. And that’s a good thing-well, I think it’s good for you and you think it’s good for me, and neither of us think we should be around but this isn’t about that. This is about taking care of yourself.”

She sighed. 

“Because what do I do, when we’re running from aliens or- _something,_ and your blood sugar drops and you just pass out? Or if we’re somewhere cold, and your body can’t keep you warm?”

“It’s not that bad, though. I’m still a normal...weight.”

“Yeah, now, you are. But if you succeed you won’t be, and then it’ll get worse and you won’t be able to control it any longer. I know how this works, Lorena. Intimately.”

She arched an eyebrow. 

“You?”

The Doctor just gave her that sad smile of his. 

“I’m nine-hundred and four years old, and I’ve died many more times than you.”

“Nine-hundred and four?”

“Yeah, it’s a Time Lord thing. I live for a while, I die, and then my whole body just does an upgrade but my brain stays the same. It’s weird. Also not the point.”

“But you were-Y’know.”

“Anorexic. You need to be able to say it.”

“Yeah. That.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

He sighed and stared at the ceiling, like he was looking for the memories.

“Got in some trouble, got stuck on this garden planet where nothing was edible for a while. Not sure how long, but long enough to nearly die. It worked out in the end, the TARDIS found me. But I couldn’t...I couldn’t break the habit. Ended up starving to death.”

Lorena gulped. 

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t so bad. You get sort of loopy, sometimes. Or maybe that was the fumes...but yes, it was painful. And yes, you reach a point where you just aren’t hungry anymore and yes, you start to fall in love with your own figure and you never realise that it isn’t sustainable anymore until it’s too late. It’s not fun, it’s not glamorous. It is dangerous, painful and uncomfortable. And I was on a planet called Eden, literally built to be the most beautiful place in all the human territories. So when I say that this is bad, _really bad,_ I know what I am talking about. So you will stop. Or you will die, accidentally, and it won’t be my fault.”

Lorena stared at her hands, how they seemed that much more spindly. 

“But you’ll blame yourself, won’t you.”

He nodded. 

“Probably. Why?”

“I would.”

The Doctor smiled. 

“What a pair are we, eh?”

They laughed, and the sound filled the room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Blank Space

The tea, apparently, was special tea from some faraway rock called Clarabora in the Medusa Cascade. It did things that were good for you, which is what the Doctor told her in far too many words. Something about enzymes and biotechnology. It tasted all right, sort of herbal, and she sipped it quietly. The Doctor walked in with an enormous blanket, which he draped over her while she held the mug aloft. He returned to the other end of the sofa and resumed his closed-fan position, and she rolled her eyes. 

“C’mere.”

Lorena lifted up the blanket and beckoned him. 

“I’m all right, I’m-“

“I wasn’t asking.”

He sighed endearingly and moved over a bit, settling under the blanket. Gradually, he grew more relaxed. By the time the movie was over, he had his jacket off and slung over the back of the couch, and Lorena had fallen asleep against his shoulder in a way he suspected was intentional. He held her tea; as she drifted off, it had begun to tilt out of her grasp. The credits rolled as Grace Kelly Grace-Kellied away, and Lorena stirred in her sleep. The Doctor watched her for a moment, the way her nose had a little bump in the middle and her hair that threw itself wildly about her cheekbones. He sighed and gently jostled her shoulder. 

“Lorena?” 

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. 

“God, I had this dream. There was this man-god, he was gorgeous, and there was this big blue- _ thingy,  _ and-“

She cracked an eye open to see the Doctor himself, struggling to contain laughter. 

“Shut up, I’m tired.”

Is all she said, a smile playing at her lips. 

“Yeah, sure.  _ That’s  _ what it is. Just fatigue.”

“Dear god.”

“Only fatigue. It’s crazy, what tiredness will do to a person.”

She rolled her eyes and rose to her feet unsteadily. 

“You’re absolutely insufferable.”

“Yeah, but I’m gorgeous.”

He gave her this shit eating grin and she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to smack him or kiss him. She ended up washing her dishes instead. Y’know, nice middle ground. 

He walked up and plucked them out of her hands. 

“Nope, stop it. I’ll do the washing up. Go to bed.”

She frowned. 

“We’re not-we’re still at the Not-Earth place.”

He turned the water off. 

“Right, yes, we are. Why don’t I get you home.”

He disappeared down the corridor and Lorena pulled on her shoes. The whole room began to shake, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as the console room. She folded the blanket as neatly as she could and walked back, where she found the Doctor with his head out the door. 

“Yep, right place.”

There was shouting in Italian, and a lot of it. 

He pulled back and shut the door. 

“Not the right time, though.” 

She giggled and he jogged back, fiddled with some things on the console. The floor shook and after a few seconds, she looked out the door, eyes locking on her bed. 

“Yeah, this is the place. And the time.”

The Doctor smiled. 

“Right then. Well, rest up.”

“You’ll-you’ll be here in the morning, right?”

He grinned. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Her smile dropped. 

“But you could travel for a thousand years on your own. Come back a completely different person. All in a few hours?”

“I won’t-I mean, I wouldn’t-“

“That is  _ so  _ cool!”

He frowned. 

“Yeah, yeah it is. Very  _ cool.” _

Lorena waved. 

“Right then. Tomorrow morning it is, spaceboy. Ta!”

“Night. Don’t stay up too late!” He called. 

“You’re not my mum!”

And with that, the door swung closed and they were both alone. Again. 

And absolutely terrified of what that meant. 

  
  
  


The lights in her room were still on from earlier, and the alarm clock on her nightstand read 8:26. 

“Lorena, that you?”

_ Shit.  _

She dropped her satchel on her bedspread and walked into the kitchen, where Larissa was watching the microwave table spin under a bowl of something that smelled like food from her favourite Thai place, her springy curls tied up in a satin pillowcase. 

“Hey. Didn’t hear you come in. I got takeaway from that place down the street...thought it might lighten you up. You’ve been- _ blimey,  _ what happened to you?”

Lorena realised she must have looked a sight.

“I erm-just took a nap.”

_ Really? A nap? You’re going to need to work on your excuses. _

“A nap?”

“Yeah.”

She chewed her lip. 

“Uh-huh. Is there a bloke back there that I need to worry about?”

Larissa grabbed an afro pick from her purse and a kitchen knife from the drawer as a joke. 

“No, no you’re fine.”

“A girl, then?”

“Larissa, there’s nobody back there.”

“Right.”

She pulled her bowl of drunken noodles out of the microwave and a spoon, headed off to the living room. 

“Yeah, well, you sleep weird.”

Lorena sighed. 

“What else is new…”

She felt that churning in her gut. 

_ The Doctor found out, the Doctor took care of me…. _

_ God, I was weak. I was really weak.  _

“Oi, you should have these instead of the pad thai, there’s another container. They’re amazing.”

She put the food in the refrigerator and shoved the paper bag into the bin. 

“Yeah, I‘ll have some later. Feeling a bit queasy.”

Lorena grabbed a lemon and sliced it in half, wondered if she’d be strong enough to actually use it this time. In the other room, the telly switched on. 

“You were watching a  _ nature documentary?” _

She hid the lemon by her side and walked off toward her room. 

“Yeah, why?”

“What are you, eighty?”

She stuck her tongue out at Larissa, who was on the couch and rapidly scrolling through Netflix. 

“Wait-Lorena.” 

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you’ll eat something. Before bed.”

“Yeah, ‘course.’

She headed down the short corridor to her bedroom to find the TARDIS exactly where she left it. 

Lorena let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and fished her fluffy bathrobe out of one of the bins she’d brought into her room. Bins Larissa was surely going to ask about later, as the rest of them were in the living room. 

_ What am I going to tell her? _

She stalked off to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Steam filled the room and she turned on the fan as well, though it didn’t much make a difference. Lorena ran back to her room to pull out that little pouch from behind the headboard of her bed and stripped, pulling out what she needed and slipping into the shower. Hot water ran down her body and it was incredibly soothing, as it always was. She squirted shampoo in her palm and scrubbed it into her scalp, combed it through and rinsed it out. Stubble was shaved from the usual places and soap went everywhere; the last thing she needed was an infection. How’d she explain that? 

Lorena picked up the razor blade from where it sat on the ledge of her shower and held up her wrist. She hadn’t seen it in a while and the scars made her feel strange, just looking at them. 

_ There’s too much blank space.  _

She found a clear spot and nicked her skin, testing the waters. The blade cut cleanly, and the thinnest, most elegant line of red welled up in the space. Lorena smiled. Her next move wasn’t nearly as cautious, nor was the one after that. Slice after slice after slice and  _ God, it’s been too long since I last did this.  _

The Doctor leaned against the console, thinking. Some might say he was brooding-in fact, most would say that. He’d politely disagree. He could see her clearly in his mind, running. Smiling. Absolutely incredible. When he lost her, he was convinced he’d spend the next few centuries-or decades, at least, holed up in the TARDIS. He’d forecast a complete mental breakdown, with showers of self-neglect and suicide attempt or two. Eventually. It’d take him a while, he thought, for him to get that desperate. Not that it wouldn’t happen, or that it hadn’t happened before. But the fact that he thought about it constantly and was still standing here, in his stupid pinstripe suit in his stupid shoes and this  _ stupid  _ face, alive and well, was testament to his instinct to live. Or perhaps, it was just his cowardice. 

Every second spent with Lorena-hell, every second spent not being a heartbroken, piping hot mess felt like dishonouring her memory. The thing was, he knew she’d want this. He knew that she’d be happy, even. She’d cheer him on. Because that’s who Rose was-she was kind. And to be fair, he wouldn’t want his companions to live in all-consuming grief after he inevitably dumped them back on Earth. But he did want to be remembered. Even just as a story, chalked up to human error and an overactive imagination. He wanted them to move on, to find other people. 

But happiness just didn’t sit right with him. Rose was different. 

He supposed, it was always going to end. Even if it was him and an arthritic, eighty-four year-old, wrinkled Rose Tyler, carrying her to the doorstep of the TARDIS to her walker with aliens or Mongols hot on their heels, her wheezing and him laughing and both of them happy as ever. He even considered trying to regenerate his face gradually so he’d age with her. He was prepared for that. He was willing, to do that. 

This new girl, though...he wasn’t certain either she or himself would survive long enough for _that_ to happen. And he hated himself-in general, of course, but especially for liking Lorena. Saving her? Okay. Taking her travelling to show her why life’s worth living? Fine. He could put that down as doing her a service. Helping her. He was being _selfless,_ that’s what this was. Sure. But _liking her?_ That was something else. Rose had always known about his shortcomings in self-esteem. She’d guessed it years ago. Before the psychic nuns of Terravore had spilled his beans, before the thought-harvesters of Vorsüch 9 had revealed all his dirty little secrets. It was obvious, he realised. In the way he sacrificed himself on the regular, the way he literally begged people to kill him, at times. It was supposed to be a performance, but she knew it wasn’t. Knew that _“Kill me! Go on, kill me!”_ actually meant what it was supposed to. She was the only one who ever saw right through him, and now, so did Lorena. It made him question if she was special, or if he was just getting old. 

He decided he’d play it out. See what happened. Know that he had Rose’s blessing. He remembered what she’d said, that time they were imprisoned in a vault on Andarrxos. That was the day Rose realised how very possible death was, and how very real the possibility of it snatching her up was. 

_ “If I die here, or on some other planet god-knows-where. ‘Cause you know it’s gonna happen, one of these days. Promise me you’ll find someone, Doctor. In my honour, find someone. Don’t be alone. Or I swear to god, you stupid, wonderful man, I will haunt the shit out of you.” _

He smiled, kicking his converse against each other. The TARDIS warbled questioningly.

“Yeah, I think she’ll stick around.”

He smiled. 

“And I think I just might, too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far?


	6. Effort Takes Passion

Her fingers trembled and she stared listlessly at her handiwork. It was strange-her soul was invested in this and her life trickled from her wounds but she watched it with a sort of psychotic detachment, like the serial killers who talk about their murders as if they’d just planted a garden they were proud of, or like doctors who treat skin like fabric and see patients as their diseases. Lorena chuckled internally at _him_ creeping up in her subconscious. Blood trickled steadily down her wrist and swirled around the shower drain. She gulped. It was quite a lot of blood. A bit more than usual. Lorena figured it only warranted a Level Two mental breakdown, though. Complete with a lost night in some bar in God-knows-where and getting picked up by Larissa and her Subaru and that cross look she always got on nights like that.

The blood began to clot in spite of the mist from the shower spray. She’d switched sides, felt like the blade was dulling. Perhaps it really had, perhaps she was just more vigorous. Either way, here she was, hand clamped around her wrist, the subway tile wall cold against her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and bit back a scream as the warm water ran through her wounds and turn off the water with her knee. Lorena stumbled out and onto the spongy bathmat, taking note of the little round things that swam before her eyes, which she bade good evening and promptly tried to ignore. She dried herself off with a towel and hastily wrapped her wrist with gauze, taping it too tight. She just needed something that would hold her over until she was ready to deal with it, instead of standing naked and wet in her bathroom. Lorena climbed into her dressing gown and crept off to her bedroom, dirty clothes and her little pouch in-hand. She dropped the clothing into the hamper in the corner and jumped at the sound of a voice. 

“Hey, I was just wondering-what would you think of visiting-oh, right, sorry. I didn’t-sorry. Didn’t realise you weren’t decent.”

She tightened her dressing gown and turned around. 

“It’s all right. I erm-there’s tea, if you...what’s wrong?”

The Doctor’s gaze travelled downward, where it rested. He looked sad, disappointed. The sort of look you get when you read about some mass shooting on the news, or animal abuse. That sort of sickened, saddened, _smack_ of all the not-fun emotions, and it was written there, on his face. But he did not look in the least bit surprised. 

“Your hand. It’s dripping.”

“Well, yeah, I just got out of the shower.”

“It‘s not water, Lorena.”

Her whole body felt cold. Standing there, the Doctor leaning half way out of the TARDIS in the middle of her bedroom and her _fucking_ cutting-kit sitting on her bed, plain as day and blood dripping from her sleeve...nothing felt real.

“Yeah,” she stuttered. 

_C’mon, you’ve prepared for this. You’ve thought about this. ‘What do we do when someone figures it out?’_

“Must’ve...nicked it. On something.”

_What the fuck._

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak. 

“Er-probably my erm...shaving razor. I shaved. So.”

_Yeah, your razor. Might as well just out and say it, you absolute-_

“Can I see?” He asked, and there was this hopeful look on his face like ‘finally, there’s something I can fix’. 

“It’s probably nothing. Just nicked my hand, is all.”

The Doctor sighed. 

“Lorena, I’d very much like it if you would come inside the TARDIS now.”

She gulped. 

“Don’t you think I should put something on, first?”

“Now, Lorena.”

Pure, cold terror ran like electricity from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. 

She nodded. 

“You’re not gonna let me go, are you.”

He smiled sadly. 

“No, I’m not. Come on.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then backed up toward the door. The Doctor made a move to grab her, but she held up her hand and shouted down the hall. 

“Night, Larissa!”

“Night.”

She shut her bedroom door, turned off the lights and walked stiffly into the TARDIS, followed him down to the kitchen where she hopped onto the counter and he pulled out a first aid kit laden with supplies, most of which she recognised. 

“Right, can I see your arm?”

”It’s just my hand, it’s...” She trailed off, just giving up on the excuse even as it left her lips. Doctor gave her this look that screamed _‘bitch, please’_ and _‘I really care about you’_ simultaneously. It freaked her out. 

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye without her permission and he gently wiped it away. 

“I’m not judging you, Lorena. And this is going to hurt, probably worse than _that_ did. But it will help. _I,_ will help. Please let me.”

She sniffled, _god,_ she sniffled and she hated it. But she was sitting there, shivering in her dressing gown and _he just wants to help._

Slowly, she drew back her sleeve to reveal the soaked gauze she’d wrapped herself up in. It felt so long ago, standing in the bathroom. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t the usual...” he said. 

“I was in a bit of a rush; it was supposed to be temporary.”

He nodded, and began unwinding the shabby gauze. It was tight enough to have squeezed the fat beneath to the rest of her arm, where the hinge of her typically-delicate wrist swelled. She stamped down the urge to wrap her fingers around it.

Layer after layer and she wished they’d last forever, but it was jarring to see what lay underneath. 

Her wrist was shredded. Absolutely shredded, though it was somewhat difficult to see underneath all the blood. Fibres from the gauze stuck to her wounds and they bled even more. The Doctor sighed, looking blanched. 

“That’s...that’s pretty serious. I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I hoped it wouldn’t be this bad. Because this takes...effort. And I know what _that_ takes.”

She swallowed. 

“Yeah, well, I got a bit carried away.”

“I can see that.”

He studied her face as he worked, calibrating his movements to every telltale twitch of her eye, every wince. He told her what everything did. _‘This will sterilise everything’, ‘this will keep the bleeding down a bit’._ When he got to a numbing gel, she refused. 

“I’m all right.”

He arched an eyebrow. 

“Seriously, please. I don’t-it’ll be weird.”

He sighed. 

“Fine.”

Soon enough, she was all bandaged up. 

“I’m sorry, by the way. For this.”

He gestured toward the embroidered bandage on her arm. 

“It’s a bit crude. I had a tissue regenerator, but it’s been missing for about forty years, so…”

“It’s fine. You didn’t have to,” she said. He glared at her, and handed her a mug of tea. 

“You did it for me.”

She shrugged. 

“That was different though, it wasn’t on purpose.”

He shrugged and poured himself some as well.

Lorena frowned. 

“You don’t mean to say…”

“I didn’t say anything. But you’re not alone,” he said, with a wink. 

She sipped her tea and followed him to the sofa. 

“But you said it was a jagged piece of metal at the bottom of the stairs…”

There was a strange sort of brewing look in the Doctor’s face. Not on his face, but _in_ it. A part of him. 

“There was, in fact, a jagged piece of metal at the bottom of the stairs, and it did end up being rather dangerous.”

“You said you were dying.”

“I said I was dying, _sort of.”_

“Was it...were you trying to…?”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. 

“Kill myself?” He offered, looking entirely unperturbed. 

Lorena gulped. 

“Yeah, that.”

He took a sip of tea and put it on the table, folding his hands contemplatively. 

“Not sure. What about you?”

She smirked. 

“Not that time.”

More tears just fell from her lashes-without even asking, and she rubbed at them viciously with the sleeve of her dressing gown. 

“What the hell is wrong with us,” she sniffled. 

“Well, my hypothesis is that...we’re bonkers. Absolutely barmy. We are, two _complete_ nutters,” he said, grinning like a man whose wife had just given birth. 

Lorena laughed. 

“I concur.”

“Well, I’m glad you agree, madame.”

“I’m glad you’re glad. But I do believe it’s not entirely a bad thing, our madness.”

The Doctor smiled. 

“If we’re very lucky, it won’t be.”

He didn’t trust her alone and he told her so. She mildly resented being treated like a child, but she didn’t mind finally being _that_ important to someone. Even if that someone was somewhat suffocating at times. Like now. 

“Doctor, will you turn around please?”

“Why?”

“I’ve got to put clothes on.”

He sighed. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“I promise. Now turn around.”

He did, and she narrowed her eyes at him before weeding through her bins to retrieve leggings, panties and a big old Pink Floyd shirt she’d had for years. 

She changed rather quickly and narrowly avoided toppling over into the bookshelf. The presence of the TARDIS in her tiny bedroom left little room for non-catastrophic stumbling. She tossed the other clothing back in the bins and secured the lids, stacked them and walked over to her bed. 

“I’m done.”

Lorena grabbed all the shit on her bed and tossed it into the chair by the door, and threw herself into bed. She burrowed under the covers and the Doctor stayed right where he was, leaned against the TARDIS doors and watching. It felt strange. Mostly annoying. She plugged her phone in and watched him from the corner of her eye. 

“Aren’t you going to take my tools away?”

He breathed deeply. 

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“You’re an adult woman, you can buy more.”

She smirked. 

“Don’t Time Lords sleep?”

He shrugged. 

“We don’t really need to.”

She rolled her eyes and moved over to the edge of the bed. 

“Right, well, you’re not gonna stand there all night being all...loom-y.”

“I’m not being loom-y!”

“You’ve parked your spaceship in the middle of my bedroom and you’re watching me like a hawk, standing in the shadows and looming over me. You could not be more loom-y”

She patted the other side of the bed. 

“C’mon. Just lay down, at least for me. You...loom-er.”

“I am _not_ a loom-er.”

“You loom. You’re a loom-er.”

He grumbled and took off his shoes, lying on top of the covers next to her in that closed off pose of his. Arms crossed, eyes to the ceiling. Or maybe it was the stars he was looking for. 

“Why me?” She asked. 

“Pardon?”

“Why me. Of all the people in the universe, why’d you choose little Lorena McAllister from Ipswich?”

“Ipswich, huh? Y’know, I knew a cat from Ipswich-“

“Doctor.”

He sighed. 

“I don’t know how it happens. You’re not the first, Y’know. I always end up doing this. I travel to Earth for some reason or another, I meet someone and then I just…”

“Proceed to take them on a tour of all time and space?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And that’s your thing? That’s what you do, you pick up humans and you travel with them?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Huh. Some people have gardens, some play polo…” She muttered. 

“Nobody does polo anymore.”

“My dad plays polo!”

“Meh meh meh,” he mocked. Lorena whacked him playfully in the arm. Silence settles comfortably and it’s broken just as much. 

“But seriously though, why me?”

“I honestly don’t know. The TARDIS brought me here. It’s like when you listen to a band, like Daleks to Dust, or Pink Floyd, and you see someone wearing the shirt and you’re like ‘Hey, they like Pink Floyd!’ And you walk over to talk to them and you say ‘Hey, you like Pink Floyd!’ And they’re like ‘Er, yeah.’ And you ask them what their favourite song is and they say ‘That one about the evil school teachers.” (1)

“Not always, though.”

Lorena turned on the lamp on her bedside table and plucked at her shirt with a smile. 

“I always liked The Trial.” (2)

The Doctor smirked. 

“Yes, it’s something of a masterpiece.”

She grinned and turned out the light, laying back down under her comforter. 

“Night, Doctor.”

“Goodnight, Lorena.”

He watched over her that night, eyes glued to her features. He did not grow bored.

Perhaps, he should have taken that as a sign. 

  
  
  


  
  
  


1\. The one about the school teachers is Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2, arguably the most famous Pink Floyd song. (Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone! All in all you’re just a, ‘nother brick in the wall) 

2\. The Trial is also about evil schoolteachers, but it’s a much lesser known song. 

This is a metaphor about the difference between suicidal ideation and actually doing it, and the fact that The Trial is both shallow in topic but more obscure in popularity is supposed to symbolise how on the fence she is about this, but also unafraid. 

It sounded a lot more clever in my head tbh.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are much appreciated! I would really love to know what you guys think.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Was the Doctor out of character? I’ve never written DW fan fiction either, so I’m still figuring it out.


End file.
